Alyson Winchester: Future
by WaywardDaughter18
Summary: A glimpse into Alyson's future. The Winchesters had split up when she left for college, and Aly has received news that John Winchester has had a stroke. She has started to visit him in the hospital to try and repair their relationship. More chapters about Aly's future will be published, not in chronological order. Same AU as 'The Adventures of Alyson Winchester'.
1. Visiting

SUMMARY: A glimpse into Alyson's future. The Winchesters had split up when she left for college, and Aly has received news that John Winchester has had a stroke. She has started to visit him in the hospital to try and repair their relationship. Same AU as 'The Adventures of Alyson Winchester'. Rated M for language.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: A while ago, a reviewer had suggested that I write a one-shot about Aly as an adult, telling her children about when she was younger. I've been fascinated by the idea, but my muse decided that she liked this idea instead. I actually wrote the majority of this late last year and have been sitting on it all this time, and decided to take it out and dust it off to publish. Read with a tissue or three handy; I cried while writing it. Please let me know if you like it- there may be more to come!**

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I pushed the wheelchair and turned it so that it was facing the bench, locked the wheels, and sat down.

"You hungry?" I asked Dad. I looked at him-he had wrinkles where previously he'd had none, his temples were going gray, and the scruff on his chin was salt-and-pepper now. His face had a funny look on it. "What's wrong?"

He picked up the pad of paper and pen that were on his lap and wrote something, then passed the pad to me. He still refused to talk a lot, because of the aphasia. The stroke had damaged the part of his brain that dealt with language and speech, and sometimes he couldn't think of the right word, or the words got mixed up when he said them and didn't make sense. It was very frustrating and humiliating for him. He preferred to write on a pad of paper most of the time, especially to doctors and nurses.

 _Sorry_ it said.

"You're sorry? For what?" I asked.

 _raised you_ he scrawled.

"You're sorry for how you raised me?" I asked, and he gave a short nod.

"Dad, that's all water under the bridge now, it doesn't- it doesn't matter any more," I told him.

 _shoud hve done bettr_ he wrote, and tapped his chest.

"You should have done better?" I looked at him. "Well, under the circumstances you did the best you could. I mean-"

He shook his head hard, and then wrote again, _nicer_

 _more undrstandng_

 _been there insted of hunt_

"You're saying you should have been nicer and more understanding? And been there instead of out hunting?"

He nodded.

"None of us asked for that life, Dad," I said, "It just happened, and it was... unfortunate. But we got through it, you know?" I opened the bag that the nurse had given me and took out two small cardboard boxes. "Let's see what they gave us-"

He was writing again. _Treat you difrent_ he had written, and he pointed at me.

"You treated me different?" I said.

He nodded, and then bent his head to write again, and then lifted the pad to show me.

 _scared_ he had written.

"I wasn't scared," I said, "Well, most of the time, I mean you guys were there to protect me-"

He shook his head.

"What?" I asked.

He pointed to himself.

"You? _You_ were scared?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Of what?" I asked.

He pointed at me.

"Of _me?"_ I was surprised, "Why were you scared of me?"

 _Didnt know wht to do with_

 _how to rais girl_ he wrote.

"Oh...well, um," I didn't know what to say.

He wrote, _so difrent from boys_ and showed it to me.

"Well, Dad, it's- it's okay..." I didn't know what to say.

He shook his head violently back and forth. _Sorry_

 _can't say sory enoug_ he wrote, _would have been difrent_

 _if you knew about demons_

 _if I had talkd to you_

 _done thngs difrent_

"Dad, we got through it, remember? It did make us closer for a while."

He gave me a small smile but then all of a sudden tears were slipping down his cheeks.

He put the pad on his lap and gave me a look filled with sorrow.

I leaned forward and hugged him tightly. He hugged me with his right arm, and I could feel him clutching the back of my shirt. His left arm was still very weak.

"Sorry," he said hoarsely, "I'm so... sorry."

Even though the nurses had told me that mood swings and being more emotional were part of the way Dad was right now, because of his stage of recovery from the stroke, it was still hard to see. John Winchester rarely, rarely cried, and if he did it was a couple of tears in the eyes.

"Daddy, it's okay," I said again, "What can I say to make you feel better?"

"It's _not..._ okay, Alyson, I... fucked up... so much-with... you, can't s-say- say sorry...e-enough..." his voice was still hoarse, and his speech halting as he thought out what to say. I felt his chest hitch against me.

"Dad, please, it's okay," I repeated, "I forgive you, does that make you feel better? Whatever you did, however you think you screwed up with me, I forgive you. All right? Does that help?" I just wanted him to feel better, I wanted him to stop being so down on himself. All the things that had happened in the past didn't seem to matter so much any more now.

His shoulders shook a couple of times, and then he took a deep breath and patted my back. "All right," he said, "I'm-all...r-right."

I let him go, and he wiped his face with his palms, seeming embarrassed now, "Guess... you never thought...you'd see... your old man...crying like a ...a baby," he smiled ruefully.

"It's okay," I took a napkin out of one of the boxes and gave it to him.

"Are you hungry?" I asked him. I opened the boxes and took out the food, setting it on the bench next to me. They had given us dry turkey sandwiches and baked low-salt potato chips that tasted like cardboard and apple slices.

"When you were...toddler...you choked...on..." he paused and frowned as if he was trying to think of something. He held up an apple slice.

"An apple slice?"

He nodded. "Do you... remember?"

I shook my head no.

"Took you with...to meet.. Bobby and other- hunter...at a coffee..." he paused and snapped his fingers, "res- rest-" he frowned, again, and I knew he couldn't find the word.

"I choked on an apple slice at a coffee shop?" I asked.

He nodded again. "Scared...the shit...outta me...I got, pulled it out, you cried...scared you too," he gave me a sad smile.

My phone chimed and I pulled it out to look at it. Charlie had sent me a text and a picture:

 _"two girls asleep FINALLY"_ and a photo of the girls nestled in bed next to each other.

And then a second text and photo:

 _"This girl needs to hit the computer"_ and a photo of herself with her headset on, in front of her monitor.

"That Dean?" Dad asked.

"Uh, no, my friend Charlie, she's watching the girls," I told him, "She finally got them down for their afternoon nap. Want to see?"

I leaned over and showed him the photo of the girls.

He leaned forward and peered at the phone, then smiled. "Cute. Are they... yours?"

He asked me this every time I saw him. Short-term memory loss was still a thing.

"No, well, I didn't give birth to them," I explained again. It didn't do to say, "I already told you about them" because all that did was make him feel bad and frustrated.

"You remember Jody? Jody Mills, the sheriff in Bobby's town? She got in touch with me, these two little girls lost their parents, they were hunters. She didn't know who else to ask...everyone else is either... gone... or too far away, or out of the country altogether. So I took them in. They're adorable, I can't wait for you to meet them."

I had been in my third year of college, and had kind of been losing interest, when Jody had called. Sam had left to travel and "find himself", so it was just me and my best friend, Charlie, a computer geek who was an orphan. I had agreed to take the girls and had subsequently had to drop out of school when it got to be too much to deal with. Charlie still helped me out with the girls while finishing her degree.

I scrolled down through my photos and showed him a couple. "That's Amalia, we call her Molly, she's 9 months old, and she is _quite_ taken with Dean already. He can somehow get her to go to sleep really quickly," I chuckled, "I never would have thought to see Dean holding a baby on his shoulder and getting her to sleep within 5 minutes."

Dad looked at me. "He did... with you... all... the time," he told me, with another sad smile,"Hell, he was... better...than me... for a while. Your first... word was... 'De'."

"Oh, that's right," I said. That made me feel a little bit sad but I shook it off. I showed him another photo, "This is Catriona, her nickname is Cat, she's almost 4 years old. We're going to have a birthday party for her soon, would you come? If you can get out?"

He nodded, but then got a cautious look on his face. "Who...be there?" he asked.

"Charlie, maybe a couple of our college friends, Dean, Jody's going to come out."

"Not..."

I shook my head. "He's still out of the country," I said.

I looked at Dad's face- he was looking worn out.

"Are you finished eating?" I asked him. He had managed one half of the sandwich and a couple of potato chips.

He nodded. "Tired now..." he murmured. I put the food back in the boxes, because I knew the nurses would want to see exactly how much he'd eaten. There was a concern about him becoming diabetic too and they were tracking what he ate and his blood sugar.

I wheeled him back to his room, just as a nurse was coming out. "Oh, there you are, Colonel," she smiled, "We were just coming to find you for your afternoon meds."

"He's tired," I told her.

"All righty, let's get you situated back in bed, and get your meds, and you can rest. Did you have a good visit?"

Dad nodded, and handed me the pad. I tore the pages off and stuck them in my purse. He was embarassed by writing and also didn't want anyone reading what he had written.

"Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?" I asked him.

"No, you go...to your babies..." he said faintly. His eyelids were already fluttering as the nurse handed him the small cup with pills in it and a cup of water.

I leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Have a good rest, Dad, I'll see you later. I love you." I was hesitant to leave him, but I knew he'd just be asleep for the next several hours.

"Love.. you... back," he said, and his voice was hoarse again. The nurse lowered the head of the bed as I walked out of the room.

As I drove back to the hotel, I thought about when he had asked about Sam. There had been hope on his face but also fear. They hadn't spoken since the night I had left for college, a little over three and a half years ago.

Sam had left with me, because it had been a repeat of when he had left for college, and Dad had all but thrown me out of the house. Sam swore that he'd never see or speak to Dad again, and he had dropped everything and come with me, living in the same town, near the college. He'd done a little bit of hunting at first but had soon dropped that too, and instead survived on odd jobs. His little hole-in-the-wall apartment became a respite from the loud party atmosphere of the dorms, and my friends and I would hole up there to study and get away from all the noise and drama that goes with living on campus. Sam became everyone's adopted "big brother" and my friends loved how protective and yet easygoing he could be.

Sam had refused to even speak to Dean at first. Dean had called me to let me know that after I'd left, Dad had had chest pains and shortness of breath and he had rushed Dad to the hospital thinking he was having a heart attack. Dad had been pissed at him and reamed him out, but it had been discovered that Dad had high blood pressure and needed to lower his cholesterol and quit drinking. Dean called me once a week at first, and then once every couple of weeks, then once a month, then every so often. It had hurt at first, leaving Dad and Dean had hurt a lot, but Dad had hurt me immensely when he'd said I wasn't to go to college.

In my teen years, I had finally gotten some hunter training under my belt even though I still couldn't shoot for anything. Although I could give Sam a run for his money as far as researching and putting together clues to figure out a pattern quickly. So I wasn't exactly in the hunting life, I wasn't out of it either. I think Dad had just wanted me nearby to know that I was safe. He had never completely stopped worrying about me after I'd been kidnapped by Azazel, even though Dad had killed him with the Colt.

Sam had always claimed that Dad wanted to control all of us, but I understood now, that him losing Mom had made him so afraid of losing the rest of us that that was why he raised us the way he did- to be hunters, and to stick together. He didn't want any of us leaving because he was too afraid of what could happen when we weren't with him, when we weren't together.

I eased the rental car into the space outside of the hotel and pulled out my phone, thinking I had heard it buzz. I was hoping that Sam would at least respond to my texts- I hadn't heard from him in 4 days now and I was starting to get worried. I had to figure out a way to get him here, and a way to get all of us back together. We needed to be a family again.


	2. Phone Call

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Each chapter will be about a different time in Aly's future. More sads in this chapter.**

My phone rang and I picked it up.

The screen said, _"Dean Winchester calling"._

He was using his 'official hunter phone' for some reason. It rang two, three, four times- I had to make a decision whether to answer or let it go to voice mail. Did I want to talk to him? He had chosen sides, he had stayed with Dad. He had stood on the curb and watched as Sam and I drove away. That had hurt as much as Dad telling me, "If you leave then don't come back."

I answered the call on the sixth ring and put the phone up to my ear. "Hello?" I asked uneasily.

There was silence on the other end of the line. And then, "Alyson?"

Dean's voice sounded rough, like it got when he'd been up all night or out drinking.

"Yes?" I replied cooly. I wasn't sure how to respond or even how I felt. I wanted to break down crying or scream in anger at him.

"Hey, uh...how you doin' ?" Dean's casualness seemed forced.

"Really?" I asked, anger coming to the surface, " _Really?_ After everything that went down, you're calling me and acting all casual like nothing happened, like he didn't say-"

"Dad was in the hospital, I had to rush him to the ER," he blurted.

"WHAT?!" I felt tears come to my eyes, "Oh no, what happened?"

"After, uh, after you and, uh, you guys left, he...he started feelin' bad, started having chest pains."

I burst into tears. "Oh my God Dean is he okay?" I asked in a panic. I walked over to the closet and pulled out my duffle, intending to pack and rush home immediately. "What happened? Is- is he-"

"No, he's okay...he's- it was just stress." Dean sighed heavily, "They kept him overnight, and you know him, he bitched and complained the whole time, and when they released him, he lit into me the whole way home."

"Of course," I said bitterly, wiping my eyes, "What was wrong?" I took a deep breath and made myself stop crying.

"He's got high blood pressure now. And, the start of liver damage or something, I don't know. They told him to watch what he eats because his cholesterol is too high and he's got to take medicine for the blood pressure and quit drinking."

"Fat chance of that happening," I scoffed.

"Yeah I know. I've been trying, but you know how he is- stubborn as all get out," he sighed again.

There was an uncomfortable pause as I tried to figure out what to say.

"Listen, Aly, I just wanted to say I'm sorry-"

"What are you sorry for- you didn't do anything. You didn't kick me out and tell me to stay gone. It was all him," my voice was bitter again.

"Please don't- please don't do this-" Dean's voice was distressed, and I heard him take a deep breath, and it sounded like he was trying not to cry.

Tears came to my eyes again.

"Dean, you were there- you heard what he said to me!"

"I know, Aly, I know, I just- this is really hard-"

"Well it's hard for me too!" I snapped, my voice louder than I intended, "You're not the only one this affected!"

"I know-" I heard another intake of breath that could have been a sob, and my heart hurt. Dean never cried. I could count the times I had actually heard him sob on the fingers of one hand.

I heard a rustling, and then he cleared his throat. "Can we, uh, can we start over?"

"What do you mean?" I asked supiciously.

"How is it there? You know, college life and all."

"I just moved in, my room-mate isn't even here. Classes start next week."

"Oh."

I realized that Dean had no idea how college or living on campus worked because he'd never been. Sam had explained everything to me on the trip here.

"How is, uh-"

"He's fine," I said stoically, "He found a little place nearby."

I heard him exhale. "Good."

After a moment, he said, "Tell him I said hey, would ya?" and his voice broke.

I realized then, what a huge rift this had put in our family. My leaving had broken us apart- Sam and me on one side, Dean and Dad on the other. And I didn't see a way to get us back together again.

I rubbed a hand over my eyes to brush away the tears that had started again.

"Dean," I said suddenly, "Please, I don't want this- I don't-" I felt like a scared kid, and I wanted nothing more to be back in the middle of my family, surrounded my my brothers and Dad and knowing that they were there protecting me.

"What if this doesn't work? What if all that- was for nothing?" I exclaimed.

"You'll do fine, kiddo, you're smart, you'll ace all your classes." he said confidently, "Hell, you faced down a roomful of demons, remember? You got this."

"Dean, I'm sorry," I said, remembering the fear and panic on his face when I had announced to them that I was leaving for college. He had known that it wasn't going to sit well with Dad. He had known that it was going to cause upheaval. He had tried to calm Dad down, but in typical John Winchester fashion, Dad had become like a bull in a china shop and started yelling and storming around.

"No, Aly, shh," he said, "don't start that, okay?" I heard more rustling. "Listen, I gotta go, okay?"

"Okay Dean," I said, and I heard him make a slight noise that might have been a chuckle.

"Well, you take care," he said awkwardly, "And know that I love ya, short stuff."

He disconnected the call before I could reply, and upon hearing his childhood nickname for me, I broke down.

I sank down on the bed and dropped the phone next to me, put my face in my hands, and just sobbed.

After a few minutes I had calmed down. I picked up my phone again and dialed another number.

"Yeah?" Sam picked up right away, "Everything okay?"

"De-Dean just called me," I said, and I dissolved into tears again.

"Oh," he said.

"Can you- can you come over?" I asked.

"Well, uh- if your dorm is like all the others you probably aren't allowed visitors after a certain time." he said unconfortably. It was late, after 11 pm.

"Can I come over? And stay with you? Will you come get me? Please?"

He sighed. "I thought you wanted-"

"Sam? Please?" I sniffled.

"All right, Aly, I'll be there in a few minutes. Wait inside for me."

Sam had found a tiny, already furnished one-bedroom apartment, about 2 blocks from the school. He said the area was great, it was a "college town" meaning that a lot of the town had made things easy for college students to get around. They had a public transportation system that consisted of public buses and also smaller buses that drove around campus and to places in town like the local library and the apartments that upperclassmen stayed in. There were grocery stores and restaurants and all kinds of shops within walking distance of the campus.

I put my phone in my pocket and walked downstairs to the lobby, pacing as I waited for Sam.

My phone buzzed after a few minutes. He had texted me, saying, "I'm walking up the sidewalk now."

I peered out the small front window and there he was, standing at the bottom of the stairs. I opened the door and ran down to him, throwing my arms around his chest and starting to cry again.

"Shh, it's all right," he comforted. After a moment he pulled back and looked down at me. "What'd he say?"

"Dad, uh, Dad had to go to the ER for chest pains," I said.

"Dammit," he said, "Why does he have to call you and start guilting you first thing?"

"He- he didn't, Sam," I said, "We talked a little too. He wanted to let me know about Dad though."

"Hmph." He put his arm around my shoulder and we started to walk.

It was a balmy night and the walk was pleasant. He got his key out and unlocked his door. He lived in a large old house that had been divided up into small apartments for college students.

We walked in and Sam gestured to his bedroom door. "You can sleep in there," he told me.

"No, I'm the guest, it's your bed, I can take the sofa," I said.

"Well, I- I don't really sleep in the bed," he said sheepishly, "It's too small for me, I have to lay diagonally. I've been sleeping on the futon, it's long enough."

"Oh, okay," I said, "Thanks."

"You didn't bring anything?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Didn't think about it."

I walked into his bedroom and noticed that he had my senior picture in a frame on his dresser, but no other photographs. It made me feel sad, and a rush of memory overwhelmed me about the time that Dean and I had driven to Stanford to talk to Sam. I remembered being thrilled to sleep in his bed that night, it was the first time Sam had ever had his own bedroom. And even though Dad had kicked him out, Sam had had a couple of framed photos of all of us on his bureau.

Dean and I had driven through the night to see Sam, and in the end Dean convinced him to come back home to help us- I had been having nightmares that had turned into night terrors, and Dad had been gone for a few weeks. Sam had come home with us intending to stay for a short while and ended up leaving school.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and tears filled my eyes.

Sam walked into the room and saw me crying. "Hey," he said, and came to sit next to me. "What's wrong?"

"I was just thinking about when we came to get you at Stanford," I said, "I don't think I ever thanked you for coming home just to help me with my nightmares."

"Well, it wasn't just you I was coming back to help," Sam said, "Dean was in a pretty deep depression."

"He was?" I asked.

"Yeah, don't you remember, the house was a wreck, garbage hadn't been taken out, fridge was empty, you told me he kept forgetting to give you lunch money- and he had a week's worth of scruff on his face when you guys got there."

"I-I didn't even notice," I admitted, feeling guilty, "I mean I did notice all that but I didn't- I didn't know it was because of depression."

"You were a kid, and you had your own problems you were dealing with," Sam said.

I turned to him. "What if- what if he gets depressed again?" I exclaimed, "What if I screwed everything up, and this doesn't work, and I- I can't do it, and then we try to go home and- and Dad doesn't-" the words caught in my throat.

I couldn't imagine going home and admitting that I had failed, and I couldn't imagine what I would feel if I went home and then Dad refused to let us come back.

"Dean's a big boy, he can take care of himself," Sam said, "and he made the decision to stay there."

I started to cry again. "What if this is all a terrible mistake?" I asked.

Sam put his arm around me and pulled me into his side. "It's not, Aly. Something like this was- was bound to happen, it's been a long time coming. And you're going to do really well here, I know it."

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. "It's late, try and get some sleep. Tomorrow we can go out and you can help me get some groceries, okay? I want to get some dishes too, you can help me pick them out."

"Okay, Sam," I said, grateful for him trying to bring some normalcy to the situation. I put my arms around him and hugged him, and then he stood up and left the room.

I got into his bed, smelling his Sam-smell on his pillow, and when I fell asleep I didn't remember my dreams.


End file.
